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Roger, Lear. We'll see if we can move you up a couple of slots. Let us know
if your situation changes.
Pretty crafty, Buck said.
When Ritz was finally cleared to bring in the Learjet, he banked and swooped
over the terminal, apparently the target of major quake damage. Rebuilding had
begun, but the entire operation, from ticket counters to rental car agencies,
was now housed in mobile units. Buck was stunned at the amount of activity at
an airport where only two runways functioned.
The harried ground control manager apologized for having nowhere to hangar the
Learjet. He accepted Ken's pledge that he would not leave the plane longer
than twenty-four hours. I hope not, Buck whispered.
Ritz taxied near one of the old runways where heavy equipment was moving
massive amounts of earth. He parked the Lear in line with everything from
single engine Piper Cubs to Boeing 727s. They couldn't have stopped farther
from the car rental agencies and still been on airport property.
Ken, wincing, gasping, and moving slowly, urged Buck to hurry ahead, but Buck
was afraid Ken might collapse. Don't go into your wounded old coot act yet,
Buck teased. At least wait until we get to the hospital.
If you know me, Ritz said, you know this is no act.
I don't believe this, Buck said, when they finally reached the car rental
area and found themselves at the end of a long line. Looks like they're
sending people to the other side of the parking lot for cars.
Ken, several inches taller than Buck, stood on tiptoes and peered into the
distance.
You're right, he said. And you may have to get the car and come get me. I'm
not up to walking any more now.
As they neared the head of the line, Buck told Ritz to rent the car on his
credit card and Buck would reimburse him. I don't want my name all over the
state, in case the
GC thinks to check around.
Ritz slapped his card on the counter. A young woman studied it. We're down to
subcompacts. Will that be acceptable?
What if I say no, honey? he said.
She made a face. That's all we have.
Then what difference does it make whether it's acceptable?
You want it then?
I don't have any choice. Just how subcompact is this rig?
She slid a glossy card across the counter and pointed to the smallest car
pictured.
My word, Ritz said, there's barely room in there for me, let alone my son
here.
Buck fought a smile. The young woman, already clearly weary of Ritz and his
banter, began filling out the paperwork.
That thing even have a back seat?
Not really. There's a little space behind the seats, though. You put your
luggage there.
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Ritz looked at Buck, and Buck knew what he was thinking. The two of them were
going to get to know each other better than they cared to in that car. Adding
a grown woman in fragile condition took more imagination than Buck possessed.
Do you have a color preference? the girl asked.
I get to choose? Ritz said. You've got only one model left, but it comes in
different colors?
Usually, she said. We're down to just the red ones now.
But I get to choose?
If you choose red.
OK, then. Give me a second. You know what I think I'd like? You got any red
ones?
Yes.
I'll take a red one. Wait a minute. Son, red OK with you?
Buck just closed his eyes and shook his head. As soon as he had the keys he
ran for the car. He tossed his and Ritz's bags behind the seats, pushed both
seats back as far as they would go, jammed himself behind the wheel, and raced
back to the exit road where Ritz waited. Buck had been gone only a few
minutes, but apparently standing there had become too much for Ken. He sat
with his knees pulled up, hands clasped in front of him.
Ritz struggled to his feet and appeared woozy, covering his eyes. Buck whipped
open his door, but Ken said, Stay there. I'm all right.
He squeezed himself in, knees pushing against the dashboard and his head
pressing against the roof. He chuckled. Buddy boy, I have to duck to see
out.
There's not much to see, Buck said. Try to relax.
Ritz snorted. You must've never been hit in the back of the head with an
airplane.
Can't say I have, Buck said, pulling onto the shoulder and passing several
cars.
Relaxing isn't the point. Surviving is. Why did you let me out of that
hospital anyway? I needed another day or two of shut-eye.
Don't put that on me. I tried to talk you out of leaving.
I know. Just help me find my dope, would ya? Where's my bag?
The Twin Cities' expressways were in relatively decent shape, compared to the
Chicago area. By snaking between lane closures and detours, Buck moved at a
steady pace. With his eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel, he reached
behind Ken and grabbed his big leather bag. He strained, pulling it over the
back of
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